Читать книгу Spark - Brigid Kemmerer - Страница 10

CHAPTER 3

Layne sat on her bedspread and watched her best friend paint her nails an unflattering shade of purple. Sunset had come and gone, and darkness cloaked her bedroom window.

She couldn’t stop thinking of that quiz, the way she’d changed Gabriel Merrick’s answers.

God, she could have been caught. What had she been thinking?

As if her life weren’t already held together by a fraying thread.

“Your hands look like they belong on a corpse,” she said.

Kara frowned and waved her hand in the air. “I like it. Are you sure your mom won’t care that I’m using it?”

Layne shrugged and looked out the window. Her dad would be home soon, so she should start dinner before too long. Otherwise, her little brother would be raiding the kitchen for Pop-Tarts and potato chips.

“She won’t even know,” she said.

“You know, this is like, the good stuff. They don’t even carry this at the salon where my mom goes. It’s probably twenty bucks a bottle.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t. I can’t believe you’re related to that woman.”

Layne picked at her own nails, which were short and unpolished. Sometim-es she couldn’t believe it, either. Her mom lived in labels, the kind splashed all over fashion magazines. More than once, Layne had seen her with the same bag some celebrity was carrying on the cover of Us Weekly.

Layne couldn’t tell the difference between Gucci and Juicy Couture.

Kara thought this was sacrilege. When they’d first become friends freshman year, Kara would beg to rifle through Layne’s mom’s closet. Layne would sit on the end of her parents’ bed and tolerate it, because a friend was a friend. But Layne finally got Kara to knock it off by saying her mom had found out and was pissed.

A complete lie, of course, but there was only so much staring at fabric that she could tolerate.

Kara wasn’t as smart as Layne, either—the only classes they shared were gym and lunch—but she was someone to talk to who didn’t call her a lesbian or get in her face about changing test scores.

Spending half her classes with students two years ahead didn’t leave Layne with a whole lot of friendship options.

Since the first day of school, she’d wondered what it would be like to have a guy like Gabriel Merrick talk to her. She’d noticed him right off—honestly, what girl wouldn’t?—and when Kara told her he had a twin, she’d wondered how fate could create two guys to look like that.

She’d lucked out with that assignment to sit next to him in trig—or so she’d thought. He sat behind Taylor Morrissey, who seemed to make it her life’s goal to humiliate Layne every time she saw her. But it also gave Layne a chance to watch Gabriel check Taylor out.

Every. Frigging. Day.

Really, she couldn’t blame him. Some days, Taylor could have worn a bathing suit to school and covered more skin. Layne could barely keep from staring herself.

And it wasn’t like Gabriel’s eyes ever drifted right. Even today, when he’d been looking for a pencil. She hadn’t realized he was actually talking to her until his tone had dissolved into spite.

What are you, deaf?

God, she’d wanted to hit him.

She should have.

Then she’d gotten a look at his test. How could someone get every question wrong?

For an instant, she’d felt strangely validated. He’d been a jerk, and he was going to fail that quiz.

Then she’d remembered the A on his test last week.

And she’d put two and two together.

She was tempted to pass him off as just some stupid jock. But his pencil had snapped, twice. He’d been angry. No, frustrated.

No, embarrassed. You had to care to be embarrassed, right?

After looking at Gabriel’s quiz, where he’d clearly tried to work through each problem, she’d felt a flash of pity.

So she’d started fixing.

“You should take an interest in your mom’s stuff more,” said Kara. “She’s going to disown you.”

“Too late,” said Layne.

Kara glanced up. “What?”

“Nothing.” Layne rolled her eyes. “You want to stay for dinner?”

“One day you’re going to wake up and realize you missed your prime years, you know.”

“My prime years?”

Kara waved a gothic nail her way. “This little ensemble isn’t making the boys drool, you know.”

“I can’t exactly flit around in a camisole and low riders.” Layne gave a pointed look at Kara, who was wearing a hot-pink camisole and jeans that sat so low they were making Layne blush.

“Oh, for god’s sake, why not? Jesus, Layne, save the turtlenecks for your eighties. Come on, I bet your mom has something in her closet you could wear tomorrow.”

Then Kara was through the bedroom door, and Layne was scrambling after her.

She beat her friend to her parents’ bedroom door and held it shut. “Forget it, Kara.”

“Layne, I’m doing you a favor, really. Someone needs to.”

Layne tightened her grip on the door, feeling her heart start to slam against the inside of her rib cage. “I said, forget it.”

“What is your problem?” Kara tried to wrench her hand off the doorknob. “It’s not like you’ve got leprosy or something. Show that body off!” She grabbed the hem of Layne’s shirt and started to yank.

“Stop!” Layne screeched. The word came out like an assault.

Kara backed off. “Jesus, Layne . . .”

Then they heard the key in the front door and her father was calling out, “Laynie? I’m beat. What’s the status on dinner? Layne?”

“Up here!” Her voice sounded strangled. “You’d better go,” she said to Kara.

Kara tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Look, I’m just trying to be a friend. I didn’t realize you’d go ballistic. I mean, with that brother of yours, you need all the help you can get—”

“Hey.” Layne bristled. “Don’t talk about Simon.”

Kara shrugged. “You know it’s true.” She ducked into Layne’s bedroom to grab her bag. On the way out, she called, “Take my advice. You might be surprised how it works out.”

“Maybe,” said Layne.

But she knew exactly how it would turn out. If she dressed like Kara or Taylor or any of the other girls at school, she’d be even more of an outcast than she was already.